How many men can look upon an angel,
Before passing to heaven or hell,
Much less to see one,
As frequently as the noon sun,
Which passes daily by,
Up brilliant in the sky,
Yet I get to gaze so deep,
Till my eyes nearly weep,
At this, the greatest beauty,
God has ever shown to me,
His daughter, so angelic,
Who stirred my heart till among the quick,
My beloved, whom I love,
This gentle daughter of above,
Whom I wait for every day,
That I might someday say,
While others gather around,
And mortal heart does pound,
On the night we are wed,
Words rushing from heart once dead,
That potent phrase,
"I will love you till end of days."
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